My Father's Masterpiece
by Kelenloth
Summary: "This is my father's masterpiece. He entrusted it to me while you were away." That morning they had buried her father. That night was the start of the rest of their lives. - Young-ish Royai concerning Berthold's death, Riza's back, and the secrets there. Rated T for safety only.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I know this idea has been done time and time again but I just wanted to try my hand at it. This story is currently 4 chapters and around 8,000 words long, but I hope to add more to it, perhaps even taking it all the way to order 3066 or more. I'll post chapters 1-4 over the next few days. Thank you so much for reading, I would LOVE any and all feedback, as this is my first long Royai fic.

Edit: YIPE! When I first posted this I, somehow, when copy-and-pasting it from the doc that contains all 4 chaps, left out the last few lines! Fixed now. Sorry about that. I'll post a note on the next chap too for those who already read it...

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The walk back was long, slow, and silent. When he first came to this house as a boy, a lifetime ago it seemed now though only a handful of years, Roy had been more disturbed than he ever would have admitted by the manor's proximity to the graveyard. Now, however, it felt like miles.

She walked before him with a grim perseverance and he stayed a respectful two steps back and just to her right. Something told him he ought to be holding her hand, offering support. But even in his crisp blue uniform beside her simple black skirt and top with hidden tear tracks running down her face and her hands trembling with anything but cold she looked more like a model of strength than he ever had.

She opened the door and let herself into the old house – her old house now. He had left her everything. Some kind of recompense, she supposed, if not a plea for forgiveness. But even now such sentiments were difficult. This house was all she had ever known. But it was not much more than a few old walls lined with shelves of even older books. Not long ago she had been thinking of how cramped the house was, even with just the two of them. She longed for space even on the grounds of the largest house in town. But now with her father's passing the ancient shell of an abode seemed a huge, empty cavern where she might be lost forever, and forever be haunted by the familiar walls.

Every time she closed her eyes she knew that everything had changed. For better or worse she could not tell, only that nothing would ever be the same again. But each time she opened them she saw only the same door, the same staircase, the same cupboard and dishes that she had used every day of her life. Something about it seemed condemning. As if the world itself mocked the upheaval her small life by daring her to try and live again the life she knew. She would forgive the world for upheaval, for chaos even, after what had happened. But it was much harder to overcome this strange peace.

She had known for years now that her father was dying. He had known it too. He had made preparations. But no one could really prepare for the great unknown of death. The usual sentiments had little hold on the Hawkeye household, though Riza tried to uphold what normalcy she could. But their family, if family was what it was, was far too broken for that. They had given him a proper burial. Now it seemed there was nothing left, no program or plan, no guide on how to go on. For years now she had told herself she was ready, that she was prepared. She knew he was dying, it came as no real shock. But she had never thought to prepare for her life to go on afterwards. Now that she was here she was at a loss.

Booted footfalls tapped an even pace behind her as they entered. Riza had never particularly liked that noise until the day he stepped back into the house, nor had she thought much of military uniforms until she saw him in one. But now his regimented pace behind her seemed the most reassuring sound she could have heard. All the same, when she made her quick flight up the stairs they stopped at the bottom and followed no more. And she was, to her own surprise, glad of that. She would not have said it aloud, not even to herself, but she did not want him to see her cry.

And cry she did, though she hardly knew why anymore. It would be easy enough to call it grief – the loss of one's father is generally an acceptable excuse for tears no matter one's circumstances – but even that word did not sound right. She was lost. Lost in her own home, in her own heart, in her own world. Not to mention to world out her window.

She had been meaning to change into something more comfortable but had not even made it to her dresser before collapsing in the chair across from the door, her head in her hands, stealing trembling breaths beneath the muffled flood that came more of shock than grief.

She did not know how long she sat there, nor could she even in that moment account for the thousands of thoughts that may have flown through her mind on their way out the window. Not one of them seemed to stick, but only echo vainly in the darkness, forgotten before they were even thought. Her tears died quicker than she expected, but she sat paralyzed by them long after.

Minutes that seemed hours later her lonely world was finally shattered by a curt knock on the door. She sniffed rather louder than she meant to and her visitor took it as permission to enter.

Roy pushed the door open with his back and stepped in without a word, turning to reveal the tray of tea in his arms with a steaming pot of her favorite - a simple lemon tea he had made a point of becoming an expert at crafting - along with a pair of tea cups, cream, sugar, and even some biscuits. A tiny smile dared to creep up towards her face as he set it before her and pulled up a chair of his own, pouring and preparing both without asking how she took hers. It was not the first time he had performed this exact service, and it would not be the last.

Riza took her cup automatically when he finished and held it, letting the warmth spread through her skin, but took a long time before tasting it. Roy, for his part, took a sip, as if to prove that the steaming drink would not in fact burn her. The sweet steam worked its magic and the smooth taste did its part to at last bring Riza out of the fog of her not-quite-thoughts. She breathed in deeply again and again until she could do so without a shudder or hitch in her chest. Now that he was here, Riza found she did not mind in the least that he could see her tears. But she was ready to be rid of them nonetheless. Taking one more sip of tea, she dared break the long-held silence between them.

"He never liked that window." She said, looking out it. She did not know what made her think of it, but it seemed only right that the first words they shared now were about him. Someone had to remember him, after all.

The window in question was anything but remarkable, other than that it was the only window in the room, and if one was familiar with the house, which they both were, one might know that it was the largest in the house and also that although it was on the second of three stories anyone confident enough could reach either the ground or the roof with only little more effort than a ladder would have required because of a few broken boards and long uncut ivy. But that aside, Berthold had no more reason for disliking the window than Riza had in mentioning it now.

"He never liked any windows." Roy replied without question "My first month in his study I thought I'd forget what the world looked like outside." He took another sip of tea. "I suppose candlelight suited him better. A light he could control."

Silence hung heavy for a while more, broken only by a faint sniff from Riza and the sound of Roy pouring the rest of the tea into their drained mugs. At last, Riza spoke again.

"I wish you could have seen him with my mother." She was still looking out the window. It had been two years since her mother's death when Roy had first arrived, two of the darkest years of Riza's life. She had been devastated, but Berthold had been utterly destroyed. Roy knew something about losing parents – he had lost both of his after all – but at the same time knew nothing of it at all. Nothing of the pain of seeing a father lock himself away, to hear him crying in the dead of night, to watch the light fade from behind his eyes.

"I would have liked that." He said at length. He was trying not to watch her now, trying not to stare. But it was not working. "I would have liked to have met her, too." Roy was sure he knew exactly what Riza's mother was like – as kind, beautiful, and full of life as her daughter.

"He was happy then." Riza continued. She did not say more. She did not need to.

"Perhaps he is happy now." Roy commented. He was not one to make comments on whatever might lay after death, a proclaimed agnostic, as most alchemists seemed to be, but confronted with the end like this he found he might be more of a believer than he pretended. Perhaps everyone was.

Riza nodded again and set down her now empty tea cup. She looked, really looked, at Roy for the first time since they stood by her father's grave. Though she had seen it before she was almost startled by the blue uniform he wore. "Are you going to leave?" The question sprang from her lips before she could stop it.

Roy looked up from his empty mug, startled and more than a little worried by her tone. "Not… Not if you don't want me to. Until my deployment, I mean." He remembered his duties only after stammering out his heart's truer desire.

Riza was looking down again, biting her lip.

"Do you… Want me to?" Roy asked, trying and failing to banish the trepidation from his tone. "To go I mean." He cleared his throat and asked.

"No." The speed of her reply, though nearly pained in its urgency, made something like pleasure flutter in Roy's chest. "You can stay, if you want. I would… I would like you to stay."

"Good." Roy tried to give a little smile, but Riza did not see it.

She sniffed noisily again as Roy put down his cup. He moved the tea tray to the floor and shifted his chair to close the distance between them slightly, and Riza let him.

"It-" Roy was trying to figure out what to do with his hands – whether to reach out and hold her or to keep back a pace. He ended up just putting them together before him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It's alright to cry, you know." He bit his lip as she looked away and hurriedly wiped the wet tracks from her face.

"I know." She said, "But is it… is it alright not to cry, too?"

Roy's brow knotted as he leaned a bit father, looking up at her now and bringing his hands up to his chin, holding them before his mouth. "I think so."

Riza was wishing she still had that empty mug in her hands, to give her something to do with them other than rub them idly. "I don't mean to sound… I don't know…heartless." Roy opened his mouth to protest that she never could, but let her continue instead. "I know I should be sad he's gone, and I am. I just…" Riza caught his eye again, but looked away. "Is it alright to maybe feel…" She did not want to say '_happy'_, "…_better_ as well?"

"Free." He found the word she had been searching for, and this time Riza caught and held his gaze. "Yes. It is." He moved his hands from his face that she might read the conviction he held all the more clearly. "You can do anything you want now." He said.

Riza sniffed, nodding, as a fresh wave of tears threatened to brim over the already red rims of her eyes, and Roy continued "You've been worried about him, living for him, _trapped_, for so long. And now he's gone." She felt as his he were reading her mind. He always did have a knack for it. "You can live for yourself now, Riza." He gave her the first honest smile she had seen since before he left for the academy. "It's alright to feel free."

Riza nodded yet kept her peace and Roy could tell he had done his part. It was time for her to be alone now. "I'll…" He picked up the tea tray and began to stand. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"Roy." She only stopped him when he had reached the door. "There's one more thing… My father's research notes." The very word seemed to frighten her. They were the last vestiges of her father's control. Roy thought she was free of him, but she feared she might never be.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: If you didn't see the edited A/N on the last chap, I accidentally posted chap 1 without it's final paragraph :P so (I don't usually do this) I'm reproducing it here at the beginning of chap 2 in case you missed it. sorry about that. Also sorry the interval was so long. I keep trying to delay posting in the hope that I'll write chapter 5, but it hasn't happened yet. Also here's a HUGE thanks to my wonderful Beta, lolliethegeek! Thank you!

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"Roy." She only stopped him when he had reached the door. "There's one more thing… My father's research notes." The word seemed almost to frighten her. They were the last vestiges of her father's control. Roy thought she was free of him, but she feared she might never be.

"We don't need to talk about those now if you don't want to, Riza." Roy turned in the door way.

"I want to." Riza stood, and all trace of tears were banished as he saw her silhouette now against the bright window.

"Alright." He was back beside her in two strides, the tea tray still between them. Riza swallowed nervously.

"What would you do if you had them?" She tried to keep herself from playing with the collar of her shirt.

Roy's response was fully expected and nearly automatic. "I would study them as best I could, to continue the study that first brought me here. If I could master flame alchemy I would apply for the State Alchemist test just like I said I would." Roy was in what Riza called 'mission mode'; a confidence that came over him when talking about the big picture he kept in his head. The tone brought her an unexplained calm, his confidence contagious, but it faltered as he ended. "I know your father said-"

"It's alright." She cut him off. "But…" her own confidence waivered now, her own words, though unfulfilled, tasting like betrayal. "What would you do without them?"

Roy took much longer to answer this time. His gaze seemed stuck for a time on the tea try before him and the uneaten biscuits there. "I suppose…" he began at length, shifting his weight uncomfortably, but his confidence returned as quickly as he could manage "If you'd let me, I'd still stay here until my orders came. Then I would follow my duties as a soldier, just like anyone else. Alchemist or not, I told you when I left, I want to make a difference."

He had told her, she remembered, in the days and weeks before he left for the academy. And again as they stood before her father's freshly covered grave. He wanted to make a difference, a real difference, in the lives of others. He wanted to protect people, help people. And he thought the military was the best way. The military of Amestris was far more than border patrol. The country had been under Martial Law for as long as anyone could remember, and these days the military were also the peace keepers, the policemen and women, the civil servants and public ministers. She knew they were the people that made the difference Roy needed to be. But they were also the military, and all that that entailed. His words rang in her head now, _'Alchemy should be used for the people'_.

Riza sighed. He was determined. She supposed that was good, but it was even more frustrating. "You've told me all about the military, Roy" She walked past him now, sitting on the edge of her bed with her eyes still trained on the man before her as he turned to face her. "But there's something I've been meaning to ask you for a long time."

"Yes?" It was a wonder he did not slip 'ma'am' into the end. Although he was the officer in the room as well as her elder she almost felt as if he were addressing a higher-up.

Riza looked him over for a long while, trying to determine the answer before she asked. "Why did you ever want to learn flame alchemy in the first place?" She tilted her head, as if in silent protest to his rigid demeanor. It seemed to do the trick, as Roy abandon his academy-ingrained passive face.

"May I?" he gestured with the tray in his hands to the spot next to her on the edge of the bed and came to sit down as she nodded him over, placing the empty teapot to the side. He took a moment longer to consider, took a deep breath, and then looked Riza in the eye. "Because" he said seriously "Your father could have been a great man." It was far too soon to be speaking this way of the dead and Roy knew it. He knew that Riza would not cry again, she was not that kind of girl, but he knew he was bringing up the sorest subject he could at the worst possible time. "His alchemy was groundbreaking, unbelievable." It seemed odd to speak of him in the past-tense. "If he had done anything, military or not, to help others, he could have done so much."

Riza was biting her lip now, and Roy was fast reassessing whether or not he thought she might cry. He tried to change the subject. "I never really knew my parents, I barely remember them." he looked down at his hands and Riza looked up from hers "But they were alchemists, and I don't know, I've always been interested. I know you're probably tired of hearing it, from me and from him," Roy did not have to say who _he_ was. "But the laws of alchemy are more than science, they are… truths about the world. Anyway, I wanted to learn, and I wanted to do something with it. I thought with flame alchemy I could…"

"Change the world." Riza supplied quietly. He could do everything her father never did.

He gave her a grim smile. "Yes. That's the idea."

"But fire… it's destruction. It's..." Riza could not find the words. She had spent her whole life watching what fire could do, and what it did was consume. It burned and ate away and turned all it touched to ash. "Death" she whispered, and shivered as if her father's ghost had physically passed by.

"But it doesn't have to be." Roy replied, and she could hear the spark of real passion in his voice. "Besides, that's the way your father saw the military – death and destruction. But it's not just that, it's protection, too. It's defending homes and chasing justice." Roy was as excited as the day he left for the academy "There are some real monsters in this world. And sometimes it takes an army to fight them. But a fire, if it could be controlled, might do just the trick. And sending in a fire doesn't have to cost good men their lives."

Riza nodded, but he could tell that none of his imagined stratagems or applications would convince her. "But perhaps I'm wrong." He stood to his feet, and Riza's eyes followed him up. "Perhaps your father's right, and the military is no place for such power. If that's the case, I'll do without. If the academy taught me anything it's that I'm just one human being, and no matter how much I study, no matter how much I train and learn, there's only so much one person can do. But I'll do it – even if your father is right, even if I'm left to die like trash. I have to try." Roy seemed now more like a trained military officer than she had yet seen him, and yet looked for all the world like the little boy who had come to live with them so long ago.

Riza had heard quite enough. When they spoke before at her father's grave he had said much the same. Even then the very suggestion of his death, and such a death, made her reel. She did not know if she could believe Roy's dreams of making the world a better place, or of happy endings. But she saw now that no matter what choice she made Roy was set on his course, and she knew it was a dangerous one.

Riza stood next to him, looking only slightly up to meet his eyes. His gaze met hers steadily, withholding neither secrets nor expectations, yet she looked at him like he was a puzzle she was just beginning to understand. He stood there and watched her, as if awaiting her command. As if there was more to be said, but he knew no more what it was than she.

Riza glanced around the room, noting that behind her the sun had surely slipped below the horizon while they spoke, although she had only just noticed the golden light that now cast long shadows before her. The dying rays lit the room like an unwavering flame, she could not escape the image even now.

"It's been a long day." Riza said.

"I understand." Roy nodded in response.

"I think I'm going to take a shower now, Mr. Mustang." It was the first time she had called him thus since her father's death.

"Of course," Roy at once took the hint to remove himself from the area. He distinctly hoped that she would continue calling him by his first name and not his last, but he made no comment on the matter as he left her alone with her thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Riza took a deep, steadying breath as Roy closed the door behind him and found when she opened her eyes that she had been hugging her arms to herself. She wondered how long she had been doing so, and when it had gotten so cold in her room. It was not unseasonable for this time of year, but she could not escape the feeling that the death of the first flame alchemist had somehow stolen all warmth from the world – even though he did so little to spread it in life. As if the death of old Ebenezer Scrooge might have taken with it all the money in London.

After the day's events and the night's conversation the simple, routine actions of bathing were even more comforting than Riza expected. But even as she stood in the warm cleansing flow she could practically feel the dark red ink burning itself into the soft flesh of her back anew. Sometimes it felt like just another tattoo, other times like the world biggest secret. But she never forgot it was there. She had spent far too many agonizing hours fighting tears to forget, far too many sleepless nights to disregard, and far too many long, hot showers trying to pretend that everything was alright to actually believe that it was.

She thought the burden of her father's research was heavy before. Now that he was dead, it felt like a millstone tied round her neck. As the water ran over the mark, giving no indication of what was branded there, it was all she could think about. As she rubbed and cleaned her skin and hair, perhaps more thoroughly than necessary or even wise, she kept trying to think up reasons why she should not go through with what she already knew she was going to do. But as she tried to think of anything, anything at all besides flame alchemy, all she could see was Roy's grim prophesy come true. All she could see past the red lines that, though she could not see them without a mirror, had burned themselves into her mind's eye just as surely as her back, was the terrible image of Roy Mustang lying dead in a pool of just as red blood.

Something about the very proposition seemed too preposterous to be believed for even a second, but she knew that it was a very, very real possibility. She wanted to mentally scold him for his willingness to get himself killed, but after all he had told her she could not even do that.

As she dried her hair she pretended that she had not yet made her choice concerning her father's research. But just in case she put on a button-up night shirt and did not put on a bra. It was not unusual attire to don at such an hour and Roy had certainly seen her in this state of dress before. But even so it was only then that what she was about to do became shockingly real. It was not just the red runes of her father's hand she was about to surrender. Or could chose to surrender, she corrected herself.

The sun had long set and the stars long ago risen when she finally made her silent passage down the creaky old stairs, but she knew, somehow, that he would still be awake. She knew just how and where to step to avoid coercing any noise from the old boards underfoot and she came upon him reading a book at the kitchen table. It was not one of her father's books, it was far too new looking for that. He had washed the dishes and the teapot, and even tidied up the kitchen and swept the floors it seemed. Although she normally did all these things, it was not unlike him.

He did not look up as she approached, and from the intensity of his gaze on the page before him she judged he was still unaware of her presence. She was content to watch him for a moment longer. He had always had good posture, but he now sat straighter than he had before. She blamed the academy for that. Or perhaps it was just the crisp white on blue lines of his jacket itself. As he quietly turned the page of what she realized was a military history, Riza had to stop herself from gasping out loud.

There was nothing particularly starling about that moment. It was not the book that surprised her, nor his uniform, nor his position nor anything else. There was neither sudden crash of thunder nor flash of lightening. In fact there was very little sound at all. Roy had barely moved, and Riza stirred even less. No word was spoken, and nothing about the frankly domestic scene changed. But for whatever reason, in that moment, Riza Hawkeye realized with the forceful shock that is reality that Roy Mustang was going to die. Everyone would sooner or later, she tried to reason with herself, but on Roy's current path she somehow knew it would be sooner, sooner than she would ever dare to guess or imagine. And in that quiet moment Riza knew with as much clarity as she knew her own name that she could not allow this to happen while she still had breath in her lungs.

It was not the thought of him 'left to die like trash', not the image of his body bloody and broken, that scared her. It was simply the thought of him not there. She remembered how she had felt before, when she asked if he would leave her: That sudden spike of utter, unreasonable, unsightly panic that shot through her heart at the thought. But his being away was nothing compared to the thought that his presence could one day simply be gone from the world, never to return, while she sat here and could no longer help. By then it would be too late. Riza did not know if she could believe in Roy's dream – about happy endings and making the world a better place – but she could believe in his life and death, and she knew she had a part to play in it.

"Mr. Mustang" She was surprised to hear how stable her own voice sounded. He looked up at once, closing his book until only one finger lingered on the text to mark his page. The silence that followed in the next heartbeat held more tension than a knife could cut. "Roy" Riza breathed out at last and with the tiniest of smiles dispelled it, knowing then that it had never really existed. All the same it took some effort to keep from trembling as the next eight words tumbled from her thin lips. "I want to give you my father's research."

It was only after she said it that Riza realized she had said _'give'_ and not _'show'_.

Roy put down his book and stood to his feet without taking his eyes off her or bothering to note the page. "Are you sure?" Was the first thing he said, his voice deeper and graver than she had ever heard it.

The question was not one she had anticipated. The day her father died Roy had been eager enough for this, but now he seemed almost reluctant. It briefly passed through Riza's mind to wonder if he knew – if he knew about the manner in which her father's notes were recorded. But he could not know. No one did. "…Yes." Riza answered slowly, "I'm sure." She did not need to consider any more. This, while quite possibly the most momentous act in her life, seemed like the least she could do to help him.

Roy smiled. In a few strides he had come around the table and stood before her. The smile had not faded yet the solemnity of what she had just done kept Riza from returning it. Before Riza knew what he was doing she found a soft hand on her own. A moment later his warm breath was on her skin as for a fraction of a second Roy pressed a chaste, gentleman's kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you." His voice was a low, pleasant whisper and his smile reflected the genuine nature of his word and deed. He was still leaning over her, his hand still on hers, while Riza stood dumbfounded for a moment. She found it oddly comfortable to be this close to him.

"Don't thank me yet" She said after what seemed like five solid minutes, though it had been close to two seconds. The strength of her own voice surprised her again and restored her confidence. "I'm not sure you'll be able to read it."

Roy had taken a step back and now laughed somewhat humorlessly. "That's how everything was with Master Hawkeye."

Riza nodded and stood there for a while longer, trying to inform her body that she did indeed want to do this and that it ought to take appropriate action and not just sit there like a deer in headlights. "Come with me." She found that she had been biting her lip.

Neither of them said another word as Riza led him solemnly up the creaky stairs, not bothering now to dull the noise but still stepping by habit on the quieter points. She led him back to her bedroom and realized for the first time that the dead of night was not the best time for reading intricate runes. But if she did not show him now she never would.

The old house had electric lighting but was built first with gas, far more reliable this removed from the city, and it was this that Riza quietly turned on while Roy waited by the door. She could feel her heart rate rising as the moment of truth neared.

"Riza" Roy broke their silence.

"Yes?" She responded too quickly.

"You're nervous." It was not a question.

"Y-Yes." Riza mentally scolded herself terribly but did not attempt to lie.

"If it would make this easier I don't have to see where his research is hidden," Roy said. He did not want to infringe on her private secrets any more than he had to. "I could wait outside in the hall if you want."

Riza's brow knotted for a moment before she remembered that Roy did not know what he was talking about. He thought she would be fetching a book form under her mattress or a stack of papers from a secret safe in the wall. "No." She said after too long a pause. Roy was getting nervous now too. "No you'll need to see." She said, trying to resume a tone of normalcy. "It'd be best if you didn't read them anywhere outside this room."

"Alright." Roy nodded, but did not remove himself from the open doorway.

"Close the door please." Riza's voice sounded so small, but still resolute. Roy obeyed her. Her hands were sweating now. "Okay, um… Before I show you, you have to promise not to freak out." Her eyes finally caught his own. At once he could see just how frightened she was. Frightened not of her father any longer; she was frightened of him.

"I won't freak out, Riza." He told her confidently, trying to calm her fears. Riza knew he still did not understand.

"And before you know anything else you have to know that this was my choice." Riza added quickly, suddenly realizing just how much she cared what the young man before her thought of this situation and of her. "No one forced this on me. Not my father, and not you. And no one forced me to show you either." Her breathing had sped up.

Roy nodded but could not mask the worry in his tone. "Alright…"

Riza took a deep, surprisingly steady breath and turned her back to Roy Mustang. "My father's research…" she began, lifting trembling hands to the buttons of her blouse, undoing them deftly. Behind her Roy asked some question, but she did not hear him. As soon as she loosed the last button Riza slipped the top of her shirt below her shoulders before she could lose the nerve and finally lowered the fabric, her arms still through the sleeves, to drape at her waistline, exposing fully the secrets etched on her young flesh.

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A/N: I'm sorry if this scene is slightly unlike canon, I've been trying to keep it close. Also sorry I've no real posting schedule to speak of. I keep wanting to write chapter 5 but I can't think of what to do next. And I really want to hear what you think of the story I've written so far!


	4. Chapter 4

She could hear Roy gasp from behind her and squeezed her eyes shut waiting for his immanent response.

"Riza…" His breathless voice trembled more than her own. "What…?" he stammered, and could not help staring in shock. "How long have…?" He did not take a step nearer, though he stood on the opposite side of the room. "Wh-_What did he do to you?!_" Some amount of strength finally returned to Roy's broken voice and was quickly transformed into outrage. The severity in his tone directed was at anyone but Riza, though she had assured him moments before that she had chosen this and he had assured her that he would not freak out.

"This…" Riza tried to be the confident one in the room, since one of them had to be, but found she could barely utter a word. She swallowed the lump in her throat the best she could. "This is my father's masterpiece." Her voice was a whisper, betraying how close she was to tears. Though her words proclaimed the mark as if it were a thing of beauty, Riza felt only shame as she bared herself to the only true friend she had ever known.

Roy took a step forward and Riza spoke again. Perhaps she should answer his questions. "When my father completed his research he burned all of his notes. But before that he made one copy. He…" Riza swallowed forcefully again "He entrusted it to me after you left. It took… quite a while."

Roy had never received a tattoo, but as an aspiring alchemist he knew enough about it to know just what Riza meant. A mark of this size would have taken months to create – many months of painful, patient suffering on Riza's part. To weave by needlepoint such intricate ink with such tender flesh would have been agony.

He could not help staring at it – tracing each line with his eyes, memorizing the pattern again and again with each heartbeat. This was it. This was what he had been waiting for, training for, searching for for so, so long. Despite his disgust, it was beautiful. But when Riza shifted her weight slightly, still not daring to look back at him over her shoulder, Roy caught himself. He realized how quickly he had fallen into just what he was about to defame his Master for – using Riza Hawkeye as a parchment, and not a person.

"I'm sorry." The words tumbled from his lips.

"Don't." Riza closed her eyes and bit her lip again. He did not need to make them any more painful by trying to sympathize.

"I'm sorry-" Roy repeated as he finally came closer, his eyes still glued to the red array. He could sense Riza stiffen and hold her breath as he approached, waiting to feel his cold hands on her skin. He looked the array over once more before finally reaching out to the terrified girl before him.

But instead of touching the lines on her back, she found him tugging lightly at her shirt, drawing it back up to cover the mark and her body again.

Riza opened her eyes as Roy looked away from the tattoo at last, drawing the collar of her shirt back up to her neck. He was mere inches behind her now. Riza quickly closed her shirt again, crossing her arms about her chest as Roy stepped around to face her fully.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered again and Riza could no longer deny him his sympathy when she saw the genuine pain in his eyes.

"Why?" She breathed, and found she had been holding her breath.

"He put all of this," Roy gestured "All of his work before the one thing that mattered." Roy's mouth hung open and he shook his head in disappointment and disbelief. "He even put me before you, his own daughter!"

"Roy-" Riza made to stop him, but could not.

"I'm so sorry Riza." He was looking down at her feet now. "I'm sorry he couldn't see."

"Couldn't…see?" Riza was searching his face for answers, still clutching her arms tight about her chest. This was to say the least not the reaction she was expecting, though she did not know what was.

"This," Roy did not have to indicate what _'this'_ meant. "This may be your father's life's work, but it is not his masterpiece." He looked her in the eye once more.

"What?" Concern, fright, even insult flashed before Riza's eyes.

"You are." Roy grasped her now by both shoulders. "_You_ are the finest thing that made ever made."

"Roy you don't have to-" Riza began again, but he would hear none of it.

"I wish he could have seen that. I should have told him! I'm so sorry, Riza." He could no longer look her in the eye.

In the next moment Roy found Riza in his arms. Her face pressed into his shoulder, her short cropped hair tickling his nose. Her still unbuttoned but modest shirt pressed against his bright uniform and her arms drawn about his ribs holding him tight.

"Thank you Roy" She whispered, her voice trembling once more, but no longer out of fear. It was the second time she had cried that night, and this time Roy was happy his shoulder could soak up her tears. He held her just as tightly, wrapping his arms about her small frame and pressing his lips into her golden hair. "I was right to trust you." She whispered against him "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm sorry I left." Roy could not help thinking that if only – if only he had stayed here with her – this would never have happened. He tried not to think about the harsh red lines that hid under her shirt as he rubbed his hands across her shoulders.

No one could say how long they stood there, the time measured only in tears and sniffs and sighs. It was not the first time they had held each other thus, nor would it be the last. But it was the most freeing for Riza and the most precious for Roy. She burrowed into his warm protection and he uttered a silent prayer to all the gods he never believed in, asking for all the forgiveness and all the blessings in the world upon him and the girl in his arms.

At length she pulled away enough to look him in the eye, but did not leave his embrace. This time she did not attempt to wipe the wet tracks from her face or the red from her eyes. Both did their best to smile, but neither did it well.

"I want to give this to you." Riza's voice was muted by the stuffiness of her recent tears, but it did not stop her. "I want you to study it, memorize it, figure it out. I don't know what power my father left with me, but I want it to be yours. I want you to take it and fulfill your dream of becoming a State Alchemist. I-I.." She took in another trembling breath, "I just want to help." She whispered. Her hands had moved to rest on his chest, and she fingered the lapel of his military jacket. "I want to keep you safe."

"Thank you." Roy's hand moved to the side of her face and she closed her eyes and rested in its warmth. He leaned forward and laid another gentle kiss on her cheek, lingering this time a moment longer as his other hand slipped down to take her hand in his own and give it a confident squeeze.

Riza smiled as he pulled away, all tears banished and her goal set once more. "So," she kept his hand in her own and remembered that her shirt, though not showing much skin, was open to him. "How should we do this?"

"Uh," Roy glanced down and immediately upon seeing her bare collar bone snapped his eyes back up to her own. Riza tried to hide her smile. Roy may have had a reputation of a flirt – he was always good with the ladies in their little town and had been since they were both teens together - But now he was flustered and awkward, and it made Riza laugh. "Y-you could, um, sit down I guess, or-or lay down," he stammered. Riza was beginning to think that the location of her father's research was making him more uncomfortable about studying it than she was.

She took charge at once, turning to pull up a pair of chairs. Roy averted his eyes again as she straddled one of the chairs backwards and sat with her back to the light, removing her shirt completely and waiting for him to take his seat behind her. It looked like far too practiced a move and made Roy wonder if this was how Master Hawkeye had applied the tattoo in the first place. He wondered if Riza would be more comfortable laying down.

Nevertheless, he took his appointed seat behind her, looking over the array once more. Riza was considerably more relaxed as she awaited his touch this time, but Roy was not. He had been so shocked at first that it was only now that he realized just what studying his Master's life work would entail.

His hand hovered above her bare back for a long moment, and Riza glanced over her shoulder.

"May I?" His voice was a deep, low whisper.

"Of course." She said, as if he were asking permission to pour her tea or something equally as commonplace.

His hand at last alighted on her skin with all the slow reverence a man might take when daring to touch a sacred alter made of something too delicate for words. His fingers were even warmer than before, and it surprised Riza how really pleasant this felt.

She had spent hours with her back exposed to an unseen man behind her over the past year, and even when she had sat down tonight something in her heart rebelled. But this was so different. Her father had held a reverence, but not for her. He was careful and gentle even, but because he wanted his work to be perfect. Roy's hand held instead a reverence of her very flesh, and also the design upon it. Though concentrated on his new work, he glanced up at her often, to make sure that the placement of his hands was alright. Riza's father had never been rough with her, but Roy was so gentle it was startling.

They sat in silence for a long while. Roy wrote nothing down, but was absorbed in looking over and taking in every curve, line, and detail he could. The text itself was nonsense for now and he only read snippets of it, knowing it would be coded. The symbol was dominated by a pair of entwined serpents, a rising sun, and a large alchemic circle. Roy knew that round shape, he had seen it before and even used a simplified version. But this, this was so much more.

Even before he could decode any of Master Hawkeye's secrets from his daughter's back, Roy gained so much knowledge he did not know what to do with it. Each question and revelation that flew through his mind as he traced the dark lines with wide eyes was surprising, yet at the same time held the distinct taste of _'Of course. Why didn't I think of that before?_' As if he already knew by nature that which he now learned.

After he had looked her back up and down fully, his hands ghosting and tracing soft lines on her skin, Riza at last broke their silence. "Can you read it?" she asked, and Roy could feel her voice under his hands. He smiled at the peace in her tone, in such sharp contrast to the trembling fear that had consumed her when he had first seen. His ministrations would lull her to sleep soon if he continued, he could tell.

"It's definitely coded," Roy replied, leaning even closer to read the minute lettering under her left shoulder blade. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. "I know your father's normal codes, they're all numbers and mathematical cyphering. But this – this is different."

"I'm sure you'll be able to solve it." Riza said, still testing weather it was more comfortable for her to keep up conversation or simply sit in silence while Roy worked. She was clutching her shirt to her chest and playing idly with the soft fabric.

"I'm sure we will." Was his half distracted response. He paused a few seconds more, running his finger over the top most line of text, near the nape of Riza's neck. He felt her give a small shiver under his hand. "But-" He pulled away, sitting back in his chair. "Perhaps not tonight."

Riza slipped her shirt back over her shoulders without question and began buttoning it again with such ease that it made Roy realize once more just how many hours she must have spent in a chair like this, just how many nights ended like this while he was away. When she had finished with her shirt she turned around to face him, brushing her bangs from her eyes. They sat in the silence that only arrived in the dark, early hours of the morn for a long, tired moment.

"Thank you Riza." Roy wanted to convey the most earnest thanks he ever had. "This might take a while, but I never want to press you."

"It's alright." Riza shook her head but Roy continued.

"You have to tell me if you need me to stop anything, if I ever need to-"

"It's alright." Riza insisted. "Really, Roy. I'm alright."

Roy nodded. "It's late." He stated, as if that was not the obvious reason he had stopped.

"We can work on this in the morning." Riza told him in a tone that allowed no room for Roy to offer a longer break if she wanted. She was the first to stand to her feet, but Roy followed her promptly.

"Thank you Riza." He said again, a repetition he seemed unable to banish from his lips. "I'm not sure how I could ever thank you enough."

"Use it." Riza answered immediately. "If you can use this, use it for all that you said. That'd be enough." Her tone softened.

Roy nodded. "I should let you get to bed." He took a step back. "Goodnight, Riza." He was at the door.

"Goodnight, Roy." She echoed. "And-" he stopped "Thank you for understanding."

"Of course." He gave his best attempt at a smile. "Sleep well." It was an exchange that even after living together for so long the pair was not fully used to. With Master Hawkeye working with Roy his nights were unpredictable while hers often ended early. Master Hawkeye also did not always do well at hiding his mild disapproval of Roy's friendship- or whatever it was – with Riza, nor Roy's presence in his daughter's bedroom, although tonight was as close to intimate contact that the two had ever shared.

Roy tried to ban this last train of thought from his mind as he made his way through the dark hall to his own room at the end. Riza's back was warm, and it almost shocked him that the red lines there were not burning hot to the touch. It would have been such a beautiful array, had it not be so overshadowed by the beauty of its canvas. Now it seemed like a blight, and brought Riza's earlier words back to mind: 'But fire, it's destruction. It's death'. That is how those tragic lines seemed. He doubted now in the darkness that he would ever be able to unlock their deepest secrets, but all the same he would never be able to wipe them from his mind.

As both inhabitants of the Hawkeye house fell asleep, much more easily than either of them expected, they found themselves at last considering where this left them with each other. They did not quite know what they had; only that it defied all definition. To Roy there were girls, and there were women, and then there was Riza. She was her own category. He suspected it would always be so. Riza likewise knew that there were many people in the world, but it seemed that only two were actual, tangible, real-life people. And one of them had died. Roy was the only person left in her world now. And unexpectedly, she found it wasn't so lonely a place to be.

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A/N: This is all I have written for now. So I apologize now if it takes me a while to whip up a chapter 5. Thank you for reading and reviewing! I hope you've liked this so far. In all honesty, this MAY become the end of the story. I have a vague plan for the rest of it, but not much of one. But here's to hoping.


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